The Pigman's Expression
by Havenscope
Summary: This is a story based on the Pigman when John and Lorraine return to the Pigman's house to try to rid their guilt
1. Chapter 1

The Pigman's Expression/ Chapter 1

The year 1982, the house on Howard Lane a scarce notice. A setback to twenty years ago, John Conlan, me, was either smoking, drinking, or making prank phone calls. The funny thing is, that's not what I've been paying for for the past twenty years. Smoking had nothing to do with the Pigman's death. I didn't either. But the more I tell my self that, the more I think I'm lying. If you never read this story, you'll probably continue to think that Lorraine and I got married. Well, that's a lie. I haven't even seen her in fifteen years until yesterday when we found each other on a one-way flight to New York where the Pigman's house, or the remains of it were left on Howard Lane. During the flight, we didn't even say anything to each other until we got to New York. And when we got to New York, she had a crying party and actually, so did I. Lorraine and me then canceled our rental car plans and took the bus every where as if we were teens again. I stopped smoking six years ago but the memory of this place led me to buy a pack and start again.

The Pigman's house, unbelievably, looked exactly how it looked when Lorraine and I met Gus. Speaking of Gus, he's the reason why I'm even writing right now. When Lorraine and I got here, upstairs was the first place we went, mainly because the first floor was all cleared out. And in the Pigman's bedroom we found the type writer that Gus had supposedly been using to write a letter to his lover all the way in California whom we knew nothing about.

Last night, Lorraine and I slept on the Pigman's bed. The same bed in which us as teens had our first moment where the world around us didn't matter. "I'm Your Romeo and you're my Juliet. One kiss, my darling is all I ask."

And then the act became real and we embraced.

This morning I found something which caused my writing of this story. I woke up before Lorraine did and decided to have a look around the rooms which I hadn't seen in such a long time and found myself searching in the room where the glass pigs once were first. I opened the door and the smell of chipped paint came rushing in my face. Nothing but dust and a shattered light bulb seemed to be in the room. That is until I actually walked in… On a dark black shelf in the back of the room there was one glass pig still left standing. It was the same one which was a wedding present from the Pigman to Conchetta, his wife. Curious, I went and picked up the pig and reached inside. Inside was something neither I nor Lorraine could ever forget about.

I pulled out a stained piece of notebook paper which had the familiar "Assassin, Boatman, Husband, wife, and lover" game the Pigman had demonstrated for us one night. And on the back was a note: "My expression towards these kids, Lorraine and John, is to show that everyone has something special to them, and if they neglect it, they may end up without it."

I stood there with the Pigman's will in my hand. He knew he was going to die. In Our case, Lorraine and I had neglected the Pigman. In the Pigman's case, he had neglected himself. He then ended up without himself, in other words, dead. We ended up without the Pigman and from now until the day we die, Lorraine and I will have to suffer. But now the Pigman's Expression still racing through my mind, gives me the comfort that the Pigman knows our suffering because he's gone through it as well. So in common we've all had a life of suffering. Lorraine, I, and the Pigman. But I have comfort knowing that it will all end soon.


	2. Chapter 2

The Pigman's Expression/ Chapter 2

After twenty years, John still gets to write the first chapter, still! The problem now is that he didn't tell you enough of information about why in the world we're here or anything! I guess that's what I'm good for. First of all, the whole reason why we're even at The Pigman's old house in the first place is unexplainable. My job is really what I had been hoping it to be for the past twenty years, a writer. It's a stay at home job so there's not much to do but to keep on writing… and writing… and writing… and then you take a break by looking up at the clock, stretching your arms out and getting back to work. I took my break. The clock read 7:45 P.M. The phone rang. "Hello is this M.R. Angelo Pignati?"

"Yes."

"This is Lorraine from the L and J fund and---"

I dropped the phone. Was my mind playing tricks on me? This couldn't be happening. I couldn't go to sleep that night for the guilt of the Pigman's death was out bursting just as bad as it had when I was a teenager. I dreaded what I had to do but I had to do but I had no choice. I packed my bags, left my home in Washington, and headed for the airport where I would catch a one-way flight to New York. From what he told me, the same thing happened to John except it was his voice on the phone asking the Pigman to meet us at the zoo to see Bo-Bo the baboon.

All of my teenage years, I hoped to God that John would quit smoking and he did. But he starting back only moments after me getting to talk to him really breaks my heart.

This morning, John woke me up and without warning shoved "The Pigman's Expression" as he called it in my face. I read it and began to cry. Too many memories, good and bad, were coming back to me. "Really John, why did we come?" He looked at me but didn't answer my question. Instead he gently took my hand and said," Come on." We walked downstairs and more guilt began to weep inside of me. "The refrigerator's running"

"Then go catch it!" The day John and I discovered Gus came back to me. The Bore and the Cockaloony bird of a mother obviously came back to John because he began to constantly say comments about them rather out loud. All of our child memories clinched on to us didn't let us go. And then—

"John and Lorraine how nice to see you, come on in." We watched our teenage lives play back a seen. "Uh, M.R. Pignati, we have something to tell you.

"Yes, what is it?" M.R. Pignati grinned.

"We're not money raisers," John and I said in unison with our teenage selves.

M.R. Pignati then gave teenage me some sort of book and I during the present held it up and read "The diary of Angelo Pignati."+

We read through it a million times but it said nothing about him knowing he was going to die but something told us that he did. We're now writing this piece in the Pigman's old bedroom and when we're finished we're going to put it in the glass pig and put it next to the Pigman's grave. We'll then go sit in front of the zoo and wait for the Pigman. And to wait for relief of our suffering.

The End

In Memory of Paul Zindel

Angelo Pignati's Diary is an Idea by Jade II Fan thanks to you/


End file.
